


A Christmas to Remember

by HariSlate



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Earl's Court Era, Fluff, M/M, Raffles Secret Santa, Songfic, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HariSlate/pseuds/HariSlate
Summary: Inspired by the song of the same name. A light piece of fluff around Bunny and Raffles' first Christmas in Earl's Court. Written for Raffles Secret Santa 2017 for thespiritualmultinerd





	A Christmas to Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thechestofsilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechestofsilver/gifts).



It was a mild winter that year, even as Christmas drew closer snow stayed improbable. The nights were cloudy and dark, the wind weak in London. The unseasonable weather had left Raffles restless and eager for some adventure to cut through the air.

“The mild, foggy nights, Bunny,” he was lounging by the too hot fire, a cigarette curling blue smoke above the newspaper in front of his face. “It’s like autumn has doubled, the perfect weather for our trade!” The heat of the Earl’s Court flat had added a languid drawl to his voice, I could imagine the smirk on his face as he tried to draw me in to the crime.

The fire was Dr Theobald’s fault, his stolid protection of Mr Maturin’s poor health led to us cooking in the ninety degree heat. Raffles made a point of complaining about this, but would still lounge in his shirtsleeves before the flames.

But the good doctor also begrudged trips out, despite my reminders of the benefits of fresh air. To Raffles this seemed a harsh denial of his liberties. He had been showing me clippings about vast jewels and charity balls for a week now, detailing the ease of the crimes had we not been confined to flat. I myself had been wishing for a white christmas, the snowfall that Raffles felt was a disruption of his criminal inclinations seemed idyllic to my poetic sensibilities. While I could go out but rarely, I was sure we could convince Dr Theobald to a quick Christmas walk around the square. Wrap AJ up in so many blankets he would be unable to move, see the snow glisten against his white hair.

However, Raffles had different ideas. The day creeped on and we spent it in front of the fire, Raffles reading various society papers for a taste of something pretty. I was skimming through a poetry book that had shown up on my bedside one morning without any explanation.

At some point in the day, the spot so close to the fire seems to have grown overwhelming for Raffles; he had moved over to the sofa on which I sat, slightly closer than necessary. Occasionally leaning over to read a line of poetry from my page, or to show me an event in his newspaper.

“Lady Milverton will specifically not be wearing her pears at the ball next week, my rabbit.” He pointed at a tiny article at the bottom of the page, not giving me enough time to know where he got the crucial facts.

“It’s Christmas, AJ.”

“Exactly, Bunny. Money’s tight.” He slowly blew out a smoke ring. “Christmas is a hard time for everybody, including the amateur burglar.” He smiled at me, the way he could always tempt me. “I can’t do it without you, my dearest rabbit.” At that he had me, and he knew it. Smile growing deeper, he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek and left up from the sofa. He thanked me, then held out his arm to help me up.

“You said the ball was not ‘til next week.”

“It isn’t, but I’m hungry. Let’s go out.” I sighed and took his hand. He was my truest failure, I would always be unable to say no to the mischief in his eyes.

“What about the Doctor?”

“Oh, he’ll be out for hours. No need to worry about him. We have time for a quick meal before he’ll come and check on me, but you must get dressed.” I was dressed in shirtsleeves and wool trousers, not especially egregious for a day indoors. I did not comment on how he wore something rather similar.

 

The next few days were filled with Raffles’ plans for our criminal activity. Despite my experience, I was always nervous in the run up to the act and AJ would take me through what we had to do so many times that I felt I could do it with my eyes shut.

“The ball should last most of the night, Bunny. The servants will be inattentive this close to Christmas, once the upstairs leave. All there is to do is slip in, pocket the pearls and whatever else catches your eye…”

“Raffles!”

“My moral rabbit, it's so close to Christmas. You must-”

“I do not need a gift from you, AJ. I just want…” I swallowed the thought in a gulp of whiskey. Raffles raised his eyebrows at the unfinished statement but I would not relent.

“There is nothing you could get me, my dear.” I knew from the look in his eye that he would challenge that assertion.

It was another evening before the fire, me with my poetry and Raffles with plans. He was so fixated, sometimes. I could raise my eyes from the page and gaze at him without notice, just as I would do on the cricket pitch before that. It had not been long since we were reunited, still the years without him would sit heavy on my heart, but looking across at him now with that old love in his eye, I felt that heart swell that I could know him still, that he could trust in me, that he had returned to me that May.

Silhouetted against the firelight, he turned round to face me.

“Are you ready?” I swallowed the dregs of my whiskey and nodded, stood up slowly.

 

The house was already dark as we approached it, though it was not yet far past midnight. AJ had been right, as he always was. We walked slowly across the gravel, as he had taught me so many years before. I watched as Raffles opened a window with his knife through the sash, eased it slowly open and swung his body through. He closed the window after me and pulled the curtains tighter together than before.

We had entered in through a study, one which was empty against our searches. Raffles finished lifting paintings then joined me by the door. 

“I suspect the lady will have left her pears in her dressing room, she clearly believes far too strongly in the adage ‘safe as houses’. But that will not be our problem.” His voice was low and I kept close to his side as we ventured deeper into the house. He sent me first up the wide central staircase, pointed me towards a door. I could hear nothing but his slow breathing in my ear, the fast thump of my heart in my throat. The creak of a floorboard to which I assigned too much of my weight. I froze for a second, but AJ placed a light hand at the small of my back for just a moment and we moved on. He was the one who opened the door, moved in first without opening it more than his too thin body needed. He was starved on the gruel prescribed by the good doctor.

The master bedroom on the other side of the door was empty, as Raffles had assured me it would be. He moved quickly over to the connecting door, smiled at what he saw.

“A Yale lock!” I could not mirror his expression.

It was half an hour before we got through the door, and by that time I was rather agitated. AJ took my hand, ran his fingers slowly across my wrist and under my cuffs, repeating the action in an attempt to calm me. The dressing room was without windows and Raffles closed the door before turning on the electric light, muttering about ‘the ease technology has brought upon those of the craft’. Then he turned back to me, glanced up, and smiled. As I followed his gaze, I saw an oddly placed sprig of mistletoe.

“So the Lord can surprise the Lady…” Raffles grinned at that, stepped forward and kissed me. Not unlike he had before, but still I could not help to grab his hand, his back, finally his neck and pull him slightly closer. Our first Christmas since he had resurrected himself as Mr Maturin, kissing under the mistletoe in a stranger’s dressing room. He pulled away too soon.

A slow breath out, one which I would maybe call a sigh. A slight smirk on his face at my rather blank expression. Then he stepped back and turned body and mind to the job that had brought us there. The dressing table had enough draped over it to fill our pockets but Raffles showed little interest and preferred to rummage through the myriad little draws. Every now and then, he would pull a slim black case from a draw and pass it back to me, my pockets were deep. Once more, I could see that expression in AJ’s eyes that I loved, that reminded me why I loved him. The look that told me he knew who he was in that moment, and it was not an old Australian hypochondriac or a world class cricketer, or even the gentleman thief who had died off a ship in the mediterranean. He was AJ Raffles, and I am not sure I can put into words what that was, but I can feel the excitement and adventure that he lived off even now, and that radiated off of him in times like that one in Lady Milverton’s dressing room. His mouth held not a grin, or a smile or smirk. It was a soft expression of fascination and engagement and adoration, one that would occasionally be directed at myself in my happiest of moments.

I do not know how long we were in that dressing room, but I do not remember it as long. I do not remember the same steady build of anxiety that I often felt in such situations. I could see a happiness that I rarely saw in Raffles in those days and I think it calmed me. We left in that same relaxed manner that characterised all of Raffles’ outward behaviour. A slow bowler of a thief. It seemed a blessed run as AJ helped me through the same sash window by which we had entered, then walked us down the drive and arm in arm through the streets around. It was too late for a taxi but we were not so far from Earl’s Court and neither of us was too tired to not appreciate the cold London night. The breath condensed in the air before our mouths and AJ pulled me closer in the empty street. Even now I can feel his warmth against the night as we walked through the square. It had got colder while we were in the house, and snow began to fall on our way back.

“Are you cold, Bunny?” I shook my head and held his arm tighter in my own. I may have replied or only considered it, I cannot now recall. I never saw if any snow landed in his hair.

Back in the flat, the fire had sunk down to embers. AJ did not release my arm ‘til I was in the seat closest to it. Then he pulled over the low table and crouched before it. I handed over the three slim cases he had given me back in the dressing room. His eyes sparkled as he opened them, I saw the jewels slip slowly over his fingers, watched as he played chicken letting them fall--only to catch them at the last second. They were beautiful, the string of pearls that had first tempted Raffles, a diamond necklace that was tasteful in not marvelously endowed, a matching set of ruby necklace and earrings. It was sufficient for anything Raffles could call Christmas.

“Anything catch your eye, my dearest Rabbit?” was still staring at the jewels when he turned to me. He was smiling and I could now return that. I shook my head and watched as his face fell.

“I told you, AJ. nothing you could get me is better than what you have already given me.” His expression barely shifted, but in it I saw a glimpse of hope. I wish I had been able to take a photograph of AJ Raffles that night.

“You were gone for years and now you’re here, you’re back. You are with me, next to me. On nights like this, I get to see you at your best, even on when you’re stealing someone’s pearls at Christmas. You can give me a diamond necklace, but you cannot give me the look on your face as you take it. You have given me Christmas. I will remember this night, this week, forever. You have made it so.” There was not enough space for two on my armchair, but still we managed. Curled up before the glowing red embers, no other lights in the room. A glass of whiskey and a celebratory sullivan--the first in months. Indeed, I have fond memories of that night, and that Christmas. Years later, years of experience with and without Raffles, I remember him that night at his best. We stayed up late that night, him talking as I listened. A light in his eyes that had been rare since his return.

I kept the rubies.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is what you wanted! It's possibly more inspired by, but I tried to carry over the imagery.


End file.
